


unfold before you

by rumandraisins



Series: to a lifelong love letter [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Oisuga Weekend, and Glasseskawa, artist Suga, because he is a Good, but also thirsty Suga, mentions of baker Oikawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 01:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14461989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumandraisins/pseuds/rumandraisins
Summary: When Koushi wakes up, there is a stranger sleeping beside him in his bed.Anakedstranger.(Or: Suga thirsting after Oikawa after they have a drunk hookup and he forgets about it: the fic.)OiSuga Weekend Day 2:Spring| Mornings | Different First Meeting AU





	unfold before you

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what to say for myself, this is the shallowest shallow to ever shallow. Don't expect any deeper meaning to this and you won't be disappointed, I guarantee you >.<

**(06:50, Friday)**

When Koushi wakes up, there is a stranger sleeping beside him in his bed.

A _naked_ stranger. 

At least... it _looks_ like he’s naked. 

Koushi thinks, his body is probably still clinging onto the last remnants of his Wild, Post-Midterms Partying, because the first thing he decides to do is peek under the covers to check if said stranger is actually naked for real.

He lets the blanket drop back down with sudden nerveless fingers, eyes wide and face warming with... he decides to call it embarrassment. 

Definitely naked.

He waits out the explosion that this realization has caused him, blinking at the ceiling of his room and listening to the birds chirping outside his window - _lovely day we’re having today_ \- while his brain cells run around his mind hysterically, upturning tables and starting fires.

It’s only when even the most manic parts of his nervous system (ha! _Nervous_ system - brilliant Koushi, you’re _so funny,_ truly a gift to the comedic community) have run themselves to the ground that he does what he was _supposed_ to do initially, which is pat himself down to check if he had survived the night with any modicum of decency and-

Yup, nope. 

Also naked. 

_Holy shit._

What the fuck did he _do_ last night?

 _You have to ask?_ that voice inside Koushi that he really wants the ability to throttle responds salaciously. _Because he’s just one tiny head turn to the left and also, incidentally, stark naked._

Wow, someone tell his brain to get over the naked guy in his bed already, it’s making it seem like he’s never had this kind of experience before.

...Well.

He hasn’t, so.

Still, though, it’s not like he’s some innocent, wilting flower. He knows what to do with himself. 

In theory.

Theoretically, the next course of action in this situation would be to get dressed and then quietly let himself out of his room and run to a friend’s apartment so he can leave this guy to do his walk of shame in peace like every other person who’s had a mature, collegiate hookup but the thing is, he’s honestly never quite understood the logistics of that scenario.

Because like.

What if this guy wakes up and then decides that he wants to _rob Koushi?_

Not that Koushi had a treasure trove of things that are worth stealing, but does everyone else just take their valuables with them when they go? _All_ their valuables? What if it’s not possible to take all your valuables? Then, do you just kind of leave the ones you can stand to possibly lose? 

But what if he can’t stand to possibly lose a printer? Does that mean he has to make his way to an apartment halfway across the city lugging around this _giant printer?_

Koushi looks at his bedmate again.

He doesn’t _look_ like a thief. 

Which is probably the same thing people say about every thief ever, but this guy looks to be just about Koushi’s age. He’s got an unrealistically symmetrical face, and he’s all angles - sharp jaw and cheekbones that can probably cut a man, shaped brows and thick lashes - strong, definite lines contrasted only by the soft curve of his pouty mouth. And, unfairly enough, even asleep after a night filled of what Koushi assumes to be rather... _vigorous_ activities, his hair still falls in perfect waves around his face. 

The artist in Koushi is itching to draw him. First with charcoal and then in oil - the golden undertone of his skin a perfect complement to his chocolate hair, dark with just a hint of milk, applied with light strokes to mimic every delicate strand that framed the bold, strong contours of his face. There’s so much contrast in him, and yet such impeccable harmony at the same time. He would make the most vibrant painting, the artist in Koushi thinks wistfully. 

The rest of him, however, wants to pat his drunk self on the back for having such exquisite taste because whatever else Koushi has to say about the void in his memory that was last night-

This guy is outrageously hot.

Even now, when Koushi’s not even drunk anymore, in the harsh, illuminating light of the morning, he’s _still_ hotter than sin and _wow,_ look at those _abs._

 _Well done, you,_ goes the voice again and Koushi is _this_ close to just starting a fight with himself, he really is. 

But at the same time.

Washboard abs.

Oh god, there’s _six_ of them and like, that’s not something you can fake with makeup, right? He’s pretty sure if they were fake, the makeup would have at least smudged or something, considering all the... rubbing against each other they’d obviously been doing the night before. Oh god, he rubbed against those abs and he doesn’t even remember it. Oh god, he might have even _licked_ them. It’s always been Koushi’s life’s _dream_ to kiss down a trail of washboard abs and he _forgot_ about it, and he even thought they were _fake-_

The stranger shifts beside him, cutting off Koushi’s rapidly devolving train of thought.

Then he opens his eyes.

And mature, collegiate, experienced, non-wilting flower Sugawara Koushi freaks the fuck out, jumps out of bed and locks himself up in his apartment bathroom.

  


* * *

  


**(07:00, Friday)**

So now, he’s sitting on the lip of his small tub, wearing a towel around his waist with a cellphone in his hand because freaked-out Koushi thought that _phone_ was the most important thing to be reaching for when he was _naked_ with a _stranger_ in his _apartment,_ apparently, like.

Nice priority.

He listens for any kind of sound that could tell him what his hot hookup is doing on the other side of the door, but there’s nothing. Of all the times for the walls to finally prove themselves to be thick enough. Where was this level of soundproofing while Daichi was having his own collegiate _experiences_ without knowing that Koushi was slowly but surely being scarred for life in the next room?

_Daichi._

Koushi unlocks his phone and hits his contacts.

Daichi answers on the thirteenth ring, not that Koushi was counting (but he was totally counting). “Suga? It’s... seven in the morning, what-“

“Daichi, are you home?” Koushi hisses down the receiver.

“...No? And if you thought I was home, why are you even on the phone?”

“Because there is a _guy,_ ” Koushi emphasizes. “In the _apartment_ and he’s probably already _robbing_ us and I locked myself in the bathroom and now I’m just _letting him,_ oh god, _who does that, Daichi?_ Literally, who gets robbed while they’re still inside their own home-“

“What?” Daichi barks, sounding a thousand times more awake, so at least he’s taking this seriously. “Does he know you’re there? Did he see you? Did you call the police?” There’s the sound of loud banging. “Asahi! Stop hiding in your room and tell me where your knives are!”

 _“Knives?!”_

“-and I’m not even wearing any clothes!” Koushi finishes pathetically.

“Wait, you’re not wearing...” Daichi blows out a breath that sounds suspiciously exasperated, which. Koushi’s probably reading that wrong, isn’t he, because there’s _no way_ his best friend just made the universal gesture for people who are trying your patience while Koushi is in his _time of need._ “Nevermind, Asahi, put the knife back.”

“What do you mean, _nevermind?_ I’m in a _situation_ here.”

“Suga, why do you think I’m not at home? You told me I owed you – and how much longer are you going to hold that over my head, by the way, I’ve said sorry, I thought you were still in the library a million times! – and then sexiled me for the whole night.”

“And you just let me go home with some random guy I don’t even know?”

“I told you to have fun and use protection, which is the extent of my friendship duties. Isn’t that right, Asahi?”

“Uhhhh,” Asahi mumbles, in the tone of someone who clearly doesn’t know the right answer. “Yes?”

The right answer is _no,_ just for the record. “Asahi, I trusted you!”

“I’m sorry!” Asahi cries. “I wanted to come after you and stop your impulsive drunk decisions like we talked about, but then you introduced me to the bartender and he wanted me to try all these specialty drinks and I didn’t know how to leave without making it seem like it was because I hated _Rolling Thunder_ because I didn’t! But what if he thought that _anyway,_ because if I liked it, why would I leave, right? If I thought it was good, I’d stay and ask for a second round instead!”

“Wait, wait,” Daichi coughs. “If that’s the case, why weren’t you drunk off your ass when I came to fetch you from the bar?” 

“I kinda... started throwing them over my shoulder after the second shot?”

There’s a pause.

“Ohmygod, Asahi, I think I should be proud of you, and it’s really weird, because it’s usually the opposite,” Daichi admits. “I don’t know what to do now that my gut reaction is being challenged like this. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience.”

_“Daichi.”_

For his part, Koushi just gapes at his phone. He honestly doesn’t know whether he should be impressed with himself or wracked with guilt at that particular piece of weakness exploitation and brilliant manipulation. He settles on, “Asahi, we’re going to sit down and have a talk, you and I. Topic: The Subtle Art of Saying No Without Actually Saying It.”

“What?” Already, Asahi sounds super flustered.

“It’s my apology gift, but also you’re welcome.”

“Speaking of having talks - Suga, please tell me you’ve gotten out of the bathroom by now so you can _at least_ determine whether or not we’re actually getting robbed.”

Koushi shifts. “...Maybe.”

“There you go,” Daichi chuckles. “Learn from the master, Asahi.”

“I resent that,” Koushi huffs, getting up and adjusting the towel around his waist. “Because I am, in fact, on my way to do it right now. Sheesh, give a guy time to _walk.”_

And then he raises his chin and marches to the door with every bit of menace he can scrounge up while basically being half-naked. He’s totally intimidating. Hot possible-robber better not judge _this_ book by its cover because maybe he’s not as buff and tall as his other friends, but he can still kick their asses into the next century. He just chooses not to because he is an _artist._ He’s not a violent person by nature, no matter what anyone might say to the contrary. Like, his life’s dream is to forever be able to create love and art and throw paint haphazardly onto a canvas as creative visualization of the nature of chaos within humanity. Or something equally thought-provoking.

Also to be able to kiss down a trail of washboard abs.

There’s something to be said about his dreams’ level of diversity.

He throws the door open with the air of a knight defending his castle, only to be met by an empty apartment. He searches the rooms. Checks his stuff. The printer’s still there, thank god. But hot hookup guy is gone.

Koushi collapses onto his bed and sighs in relief.

  


* * *

  


**(07:30, Saturday)**

And that should have been the end of that except.

Hot hookup guy is in Koushi’s morning yoga class. 

Koushi doesn’t even notice until he’s in the middle of attempting to lift for crow so he sends his gaze forward and chokes on his inhale.

Lo and behold, hot hookup guy is right there in front of Koushi, looking like an effortless piece of art who has achieved total enlightenment. A _really_ effortless piece of art. But then again, if those abs were any indication of his core strength then-

Their yoga instructor reminds them to listen when their body speaks to them, and give themselves time to relax and honor where they are right now, and that crow was optional and they could just stay in their squats and take deep breaths, which kind of feels like an announcement pointedly directed at _Koushi,_ who’s still creepily staring at hot hookup guy’s perfect crow, with his palms planted on his mat, signalling his intention and also current inability.

And it’s not like Koushi can’t do crow, okay, but his body is Speaking to Him so he goes back to his squat and takes deep breaths and meditates on the consequences of giving in to brief but fleeting bodily pleasures and running with dirty, dirty imaginations. He accepts his impulsive drunk decision. He will not judge himself for it and he won’t allow it to disturb his thoughts any longer.

It’s all in the past.

He is present in this moment. 

He is also, most determinedly, _not_ going to pop an embarrassing eyerection in the middle of a class he’s taking to loosen up tension to get ready for the rest of the day. 

It works for a while, at least until some time later when in said present moment, he has to watch hot hookup guy flow from plank to cobra to down dog right before his very eyes. 

And.

He’s so _open._ And fluid. And effortless. He’s making Koushi feel like a graceless duck and also fall out of alignment because he’s so busy openly gawking at hot hookup guy’s _legs._

They’re so long.

And lean. 

And toned.

And... _leggy._

It seems kind of stupid that he’s only just now noticing this, considering their rather... eventful past encounter, but it’s not his fault that his attention got totally caught up with the abs, okay. Because they were very hot abs.

But wow, does this guy _also_ have to have a hot lower body to match his equally hot upper body and his gorgeously hot face? 

And not only that, does he _also_ have to be super flexible, and strong, and balanced and enlightened?

Where is the justice in this world? 

Koushi reflects on this very important question for the rest of the class and consequently, spends quite a bit of time in corpse pose so he can reflect on it some more. It’s definitely not so he could avoid any possible eye contact with hot hookup guy, no sir. This is the time for contemplation and connection with his inner self.

He lingers on his mat for as long as he can, and when he thinks a reasonable amount of time has passed, he rises from his spot on the floor and opens his eyes only to come _face-to-face-_

With hot hookup guy.

His eyes are dark brown, Koushi notices, almost the exact same color of his hair, with occasional caramel flecks, vivid in the sparkle of something Koushi could almost say is mischief taking over his face. 

Or maybe it’s smug narcissism, but Koushi is hard-pressed to think badly of this guy when he is the literal personification of the perfect chocolate bar.

As in, the milk chocolate coating and the caramel center and the.

Nuts. 

And also the.

 _Cream._

Ohmygod.

Hot hookup guy’s mouth quirks up in one corner like he knows just what Koushi is thinking which should alarm Koushi considering his not-so-innocent line of thought but it just kinda draws Koushi’s attention to his lips. Which are also hot because there is no justice in this world. A pink tongue darts out to wet said lips before he brings his palms together in front of his chest and bows, “Namaste.”

But Koushi’s mind is in DEFCON 1 at the moment because _we have a tongue_ and oh no, he has a tongue and the evil follow up of that horrid voice in his head wondering exactly where that tongue had _been._

Tangling with Koushi’s own tongue?

Marking Koushi’s neck?

Dropping down someplace _lower?_

Goodbye, inner peace. 

Only of course, he spoke too soon because hot hookup guy takes his silence as an opportunity to get up and flaunt his impeccable style, by which Koushi means his impeccable back... _area,_ but yes, also the fact that he looks like he just stepped out of the cover of a sports magazine, down to the glistening beads of sweat that are making their way down his-

“Oikawa-san!” A wave of people comes rushing in around him all at once, clawing at each other for the chance to tell him how good he looks and how amazing he is and almost all of them nearly step on Koushi once or twice without even a second glace to say their apologies.

What the hell, this place is _dangerous._

By the time he finally makes his way out of the studio, he’s successfully convinced himself that he wasn’t really in great need of inner peace, anyway, so these yoga classes are no longer worth the near-death experience, not to mention all the trouble he has to go through to get them and it would therefore be in his best interests to just.

Skip them.

  


* * *

  


**(07:45, Sunday)**

The realization that he has a name - _Oikawa_ \- comes the next day while Koushi is considering the merits of a breakfast danish versus a muffin in this newly-opened corner bakery. Because the muffin is chocolate caramel. 

And then, just like that: _ohmygod, hot hookup guy’s name is Oikawa._

From a chocolate caramel muffin.

There is something seriously wrong with him. 

He needs to get a grip. They had sex one night and Koushi doesn’t even remember it. So what? It’s not as if it’s never happened before in the history of the world. Koushi can’t even count in one hand just how many people doing their respective walks of shame he’d encountered on the way to this corner bakery alone.

Besides.

It could have been terrible, for all he knew. Oikawa could have been one of those guys who doesn’t really know what to do with someone else’s pleasure because he was too busy chasing his own. Or maybe he’d been too drunk to even get it up. And who cares if he has a tongue? Maybe he was one of those douchebags who kissed like they thought they were the spin cycle of a washing machine. Or like, what if he tried to ‘battle Koushi’s tongue for dominance’ because he read too much porn and it was just overall really bad? Koushi could have choked on his tongue. 

...Not that he wouldn’t have enjoyed choking on something else entirely, but that’s a completely different story. 

He could have fallen asleep that night entirely unsatisfied.

Except he peeked at his trash and laundered his sheets - both separate, glowing evidences that spoke to the contrary.

But details. 

Fuck it, he’s getting the danish.

He gets up to address the bored baker behind the counter only to find out that during Koushi’s long, internal debate, they’ve been replaced by none other than hot hookup guy, Oikawa-san.

And.

He has flour on his face. Or sugar. A streak of some white crystalline substance dancing the curve from his cheekbone to the corner of his lips in a wide, careless arch. He carries with him the scent of bread and yeast and milk from the kitchens beyond the front of the shop and it sounds just about as mouthwatering as it smells.

 _Looks_ about twice as mouthwatering. 

Koushi has the sudden, reckless urge to reach over the counter and tilt Oikawa’s chin down with his fingers so he can just. 

_Lick_ the sugar right off his face. 

Slowly. 

He’d kiss his way to the delicate shell of Oikawa’s ear and blow on the wet trail he’d left on his cheek and when he shudders - Koushi gets a vague flash of memory at this, Oikawa wrapped around him and shaking as he threw his head back and _whimpered_ \- Koushi would smile. 

_Sweet,_ he’d say.

It’s at this point, of course, that Koushi snaps back to the reality where he’d basically just been standing there staring at hot hookup guy Oikawa. 

Who is looking like he’s getting ready to do some eating of his own, strangely enough.

Koushi clears his throat. “Um,” he points at his cheek. “You’ve got... a little...”

“Hm?” Oikawa hums, angling his profile for full display. He even looks good in profile, the preening dreamboat. “A little what?”

“Sugar.” Koushi makes an aborted gesture to Oikawa’s face and retreats back to the safety of his personal space so he can brush his own cheek instead. “Here. In case you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t, thanks,” he says, but doesn’t make any move to clean it up. “Hey, you’re in my yoga class, right?” 

And _then._

Before Koushi could even begin to formulate an answer that didn’t give away just how _present_ he had been for Oikawa’s Bending Exhibitions: Sun Salutations Edition, Oikawa’s tongue darts out to swipe at the sugar on the corner of his mouth and run it over his bottom lip in what literally feels like 0.25x speed. 

His tongue practically _crawls_ over the entire curve of his bottom lip, flicking and _twisting_ occasionally to gather the undissolved sugar crystals it had left in its tracks. 

It’s so pornographic, Koushi doesn’t even care that he might have choked on it. 

He nods jerkily, unable to speak because it kind of feels like he’s just swallowed his own tongue.

Oikawa smiles as he leans sinuously over the counter, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and looking darkly amused. “Nice forward bend.” He winks. 

Koushi’s head explodes for the third time in as many days. 

The next thing he knows, he’s standing outside, holding a chocolate caramel muffin, and swearing never again. 

This is what he gets for giving in to sweet cravings and trying for something fancy.

He should have really just stopped by the convenience store for some tuna rolls. Or like, suffer through Daichi’s cooking. Who cares if Daichi still doesn’t know how to crack an egg without breaking the entire shell over it and subsequently creating omelets that were extra crunchy? Beggars can’t be choosers. After all, he’s a broke college student who needs to cut costs wherever he can so.

Definitely no more bakeries.

  


* * *

  


**(08:00, Monday)**

Koushi slumps against his seat in the lecture hall and wishes for death. 

He normally loves his anatomy classes. But considering all the anatomical examinations he’s subjected himself to these past few days, he’s definitely reaching his limit. 

Not to mention the fact that he woke up this morning with the extremely belated realization that just because he forgot about his one night stand doesn’t mean _Oikawa_ has. 

That would explain all the smug looks he’d been giving, certainly. 

Really, what the fuck did he _do_ that night? 

_Nice forward bend._

Does that mean he did a forward bend? In bed? Oh god, all this time, Koushi had been laboring under the assumption that he topped, considering that one second memory flash he got while Oikawa had been busy playing twister with his tongue. But if _Koushi_ did the forward bend, didn’t that mean...

Maybe they switched? 

So, wait, does that mean they really did it more than once?

And tried out a wide variety of positions, too, because there were some stains in that sheet Koushi washed whose locations still caused him a tremendous amount of mental acrobatics to explain. 

So.

Oikawa probably wasn’t too terrible at the sexing then.

Damnit.

What is _with_ this guy? Have some kind of shortcoming to balance out all that perfection, at least. It’s only fair to the rest of the mortals who have to cope daily with the knowledge of their own wretchedness. 

Maybe he has a shitty personality. Maybe he’s a class A asshole who knows exactly how hot he is and treats everyone like dirt as a result and also talks about himself in third person. Koushi can just imagine it – Oikawa ruling over his tortured subjects as the demon king, demanding to be constantly praised and glorified because he can’t go one second without hearing how he’s the fairest of them all after he’s killed everyone else who gave him even the tiniest contest. 

Except this line of thought backfires immediately because instead of being turned off, Koushi’s mind takes him to a fantasy alternate universe where he fought for the liberation of the people against the demon king and lost and now has to pay for his insolence and disloyalty with his own body. 

...What is _wrong_ with him?

He had one drunk hookup, get over it. And okay, yes, maybe said guy has been haunting him these past few days, but he’s already taken the steps to ensure that the rest of it will forever be rid of the ghost of hookups past.

He is cleansed.

A blank slate.

Free.

“Oikawa-san?” 

Koushi’s gaze snaps up just in time to catch Oikawa standing up from his seat some places to the right of Koushi, and beginning to explain the anatomy of a hand. 

What the fuck, this guy is _everywhere._

How? 

Why? 

He’s lived all his life until now with the inability to notice this one person and now he’s just popping up everywhere Koushi goes? Doesn’t he deserve some kind of break?

Apparently not, because Oikawa is wearing glasses.

He’s.

Wearing _glasses._

Which makes him look smarter than he already does, doubles down on the intensity of his gaze and increases his attraction factor by about a million percent. 

Electricity shoots in crackling, unexpected bursts all over Koushi’s skin.

...Does he have a glasses kink? 

Oikawa pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking simultaneously adorable and nerd hot and oh no, Koushi has a glasses kink.

And of course, as if he isn’t already dying, Oikawa’s serious voice just _does things_ that he can’t even begin to explain.

He listens to Oikawa talk about the muscles in the palm, losing himself in the rich, sensual cadence of its rise and fall, imagining that voice whispering in his ear, the words a sweet caress, leaning over him in his forward bend, growling, _“Making such a_ mess, _Mr. Refreshing, wish you could see the filthy way you dance for_ me.”

Koushi snaps back to the present and drops his gaze down to his anatomy book, names of muscle groups swimming before him and unable to pull focus. 

Well.

There’s the answer to the forward bend question.

He hears Oikawa finish his discussion. It directly precedes all the giggling that every person in every seat separating them both start to do because he is _so dreamy_ and _so smart_ and.

Also a genius, obviously. 

Why not.

But it doesn’t take smart people to learn the course, Koushi argues silently, grumbling to himself and turning a page, coming up with an unlabelled illustration of the human muscular system. Just diligent students. It doesn’t matter how smart you are if you don’t work hard and Koushi’s the hardest worker there is, so.

What Oikawa just demonstrated wasn’t all that impressive, really.

Koushi can do that, too, like.

He looks down at the illustration and immediately picks out-

The gluteus maximus.

  


* * *

  


**+1**

**(14:00, Monday)**

Koushi trudges to life drawing with still no working idea as to how he was ever going to get out of his hopelessly plagued anatomy class. It’s not like he can drop out of it. Maybe he could just stop going to lectures altogether? He can survive on good test scores alone, right? Maybe his attendance doesn’t even matter all that much, as long as he turns in homework and shows up for exams. 

Maybe. 

The good thing about this is even if he doesn’t find a way out of it, it’s big lecture hall so the chances of him ever having the misfortune to cross paths with Oikawa inside are slim to none.

Then again, there’s like a million people in this city so the chances of him ever crossing paths with his drunken hookup were _also_ slim to none but that happened _anyway._

More than once, even. 

Koushi sighs. Really, it’s high time for the world to just stop. All these random, unpleasant surprises are not good for Koushi’s heart. He sighs again.

“That’s an awful lot of sighing before class has even started,” Michimiya comments, peeking out of her easel to smile at him. “You okay, Sugawara?”

“Michimiya,” he sighs, trying not to whine. “Have you ever been in a situation where it’s like you know you’re headed towards a train wreck but you can’t stop the the train from hurtling towards it at full speed because the brakes are broken so you try to detach one car from the rest of the train but that’s also no good because they’ve been fused together by some kind of unholy power and also there’s an indicator that says how fast the train has to go because if its speed falls below the limit, the whole thing will blow up in a series of explosions that feed off of each other, increasing in strength and killing intensity with every blast but if you try to jump off of the train in an effort to save yourself, you’re actually just condemning yourself to another kind of certain death because the railroad happens to be built on the side of a cliff that falls directly to an ocean filled with rock formations that could break your bones from that kind of high-velocity fall, _and_ if you manage to survive _that,_ the water also happens to be teeming with hungry, man-eating sharks that have the ability to smell the blood in their prey from over a hundred feet away?”

“Sounds like quite a situation!” she replies laughingly. “What happened, exactly? Did Sawamura...” She coughs, retreating a little and losing the careless edge to her laughter. “Did he forget that you weren’t supposed to be in the library while he... got busy again?”

Koushi blinks, watching her pretend to not care about the answer, red-faced and self-conscious. “So is this about Daichi, after all?” he sings teasingly. “How devious of you. I honestly thought you were concerned about me for a moment there.”

“Hm?” she squeaks. “I am! Obviously, I just came to the conclusion anyone would have come up with, knowing your history! W-who said anything about anyone liking anybody? Because! That’s obviously not-! I don’t-!”

“That’s too bad, then,” he tells her, biting down on a smile. “Because you’re completely his type, you know.”

Michimiya stops flailing in favor of hiding her deepening blush. “That’s... That’s...” 

“Ah, look at that, he just texted me!” Koushi points at his phone, making a show of opening his mail. “And he says to tell you hi! What a fearless, straightforward man, Michimiya-chan, shall I tell him to pick you up at seven?”

“What? No!” She lunges for him and grabs onto his phone with brutal ferocity. “Don’t send embarrassing requests on my behalf, that’s totally... What’s this? Why is it blank- He didn’t even text you, you liar!” 

Koushi laughs as Michimiya stomps back to her chair, steaming with righteous fury. “Did your mother never teach you that it was impolite to tease, Sugawara?” she demands, holding his phone up in a shaking fist. 

“Please be careful with that,” Koushi requests mildly. “I can’t exactly afford another phone right now.”

“See, this is the kind of thing you should have thought about before you decided to tease me,” she declares, crossing her hands in front of her chest. “It’s confiscated until I decide I can trust you again!”

Koushi smiles at her fondly. “I’m not saying you should confess right away or anything,” he explains gently. “But there’s nothing wrong with taking a leap of faith, either.”

Michimiya glances away. “I... I know.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’ll make a cute couple, Michimiya-chan!”

“There you go again! You just earned your phone a few more hours in the jail cell, bastard!”

Koushi laughs, turning back to his easel and sighing inwardly. Somehow, other people’s romantic problems seem way more simpler than his own ridiculous situation. Life was really unfair.

As if it found the need to prove just how bad it could get, not five minutes after he said that, their model for life drawing strolls in and-

What do you know, it’s Oikawa once again.

“One minute poses, please, Oikawa-san.”

“Yes,” Oikawa replies easily, sliding the robe off and stepping up onto his podium. 

He then proceeds to do his thing, whatever his thing was, Koushi wouldn’t know because he currently has his head between his knees, crouched behind his sketchpad, trying not to hyperventilate. 

Just.

_Why._

He mentally screams to the heavens, _what did I ever do to you?_

“Whoa.” Michimiya’s voice drifts down to where Koushi is curled up into a ball and trying to disappear from the face of the earth. “Where did they get this guy? He has such amazing proportions.”

Yeah.

_Proportions._

“And get a load of this shoulder breadth,” Michimiya continues. “Like, at first glance, he looks rather willowy but actually, it’s masking all this masculine charisma inside. What do you know, a model with hidden depths.”

 _Hidden depths,_ wow. 

“And look, Sugawara, look, we actually have _abs-_ “

“Michimiya, _please,_ ” Koushi hisses, not needing a reminder about the existence of said abs. 

“What’s with you? You’re acting as weird as you did when you first came in- _Oh._ ”

Koushi does not like that oh. 

“Ohoho _ho,_ Sugawara-chan,” Michimiya crows. “Is it possible that we have just, by some accident of fate, come across your moving, potentially lethal _train?”_

“...No.”

“Oh, this is just too good! What are you even doing hiding there? I mean, if I was you and my trainwreck looked like _that,_ I’d ride him enthusiastically and die without regrets.”

“Ohmygod.”

“I meant as a method of transportation, of course,” assures Michimiya, who totally didn’t mean it as a method of transportation. “Not that there was ever any need for clarification, am I right?”

“Of course not,” Koushi bites off savagely.

“Is that so? Then what are you still doing down there, Sugawara? You’re losing precious time, you know, he’s only supposed to do one-minute poses.”

“I know,” Koushi sighs for the millionth time, beginning the truly mammoth task of unfurling himself from his little corner of safety. 

“Ah, he’s looking this way!”

Koushi immediately curls back up like an armadillo.

“Just kidding.”

Koushi springs to his feet and swipes his phone from her hand, going to his gallery and deleting the latest video without even pausing to look at it. “Say, Michimiya, didn’t your mother ever tell you that it was rude to tease?”

“I mean, she probably did, but I must have been feeling naughty the day she brought it up,” Michimiya grins, gesturing to the front of the room with her chin. “Just like you.”

Koushi follows her gaze, dread creeping up his spine. 

Oikawa is looking directly at him. 

Oikawa, the hottest thing in the universe since the birth of the sun, is looking directly at him with every line of his body _reeking_ with satisfaction. A smirk is playing on his lips. He holds Koushi’s gaze for one very long moment and then _winks._

Needless to say, Koushi doesn’t get much drawing done during that class. 

He also pointedly ignores Michimiya’s teasing from that moment on, at least until they were packing up for the day and she pokes him with a pencil that happened to be incredibly sharp - “Hey!” - because he’s not about to put up with actual physical torture.

“Pass the message, Sugawara.” She waves a folded piece of paper as she says this. “Come on, stop being a total buzzkill.”

The paper had Oikawa’s name written on it. 

More specifically, it says it’s addressed to _Oikawa-sama!_ Along with all the hearts that managed to fit into that one line, which means that there were, as it turns out, _a lot_ of hearts. 

“It’s a confession note,” Michimiya clarifies, trying to force it on his hands again. “It just got passed to me, too, okay, so don’t look at me like that.”

“But why me?” 

“Because you’re a good guy who wouldn’t get in the way of someone else’s romantic advancements,” Michimiya drawls. “Besides, if he accepts this confession and then dates them, it’s one less problem for you, right?”

Which is... true enough, even if Koushi feels kind of awkward handing someone else’s confession letter to the guy he hooked up with once. But if he goes through _this_ particular necessary evil, then he wouldn’t ever need to suffer ever again so.

He sucks it up and goes for it, crossing the room to where Oikawa was somehow _still_ in his robe, waylaid by a few students who wanted to talk about whatever it was a group of students want to talk about with hot guys. 

Koushi takes a deep breath and taps him on the shoulder. “Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa turns around. “Oh. You again,” he says, like he hasn’t been giving Koushi comical looks for the entire duration of the class that might have been called borderline flirting, if he didn’t know any better. 

Because like. 

First of all, why would he be _flirting_ with Koushi?

And second, why would he be flirting with _Koushi?_

Maybe he’s just doing it to poke fun or rile Koushi up. It’s certainly worked for him before. And Koushi just let him because he was a thirsty idiot. But no more. There is a limit to how much fun he can have at Koushi’s expense and he is drawing a line.

“Yes. Me. Here.” Koushi hands him the paper and then makes his way back to his things with his dignity still intact for the very first time. 

Which doesn’t impress Michimiya enough, apparently. “Don’t tell me you shifted to grouchy Sugawara mode.”

“I have a grouchy mode?”

“Yeah, the one where you develop a resting bitch face and give off an aura like you were gonna murder the next person misguided enough to ask you to speak beyond monosyllabic sentences.”

“I like that mode,” Koushi muses thoughtfully. “Tell me more.”

“ _Su. Ga. Wa. Ra._ ” She says his name like every syllable was a separate word, clucking disapprovingly. “Weren’t you the one...” 

She trails off, eyes flicking to the space over his shoulder.

“Am I interrupting something?” 

And Koushi wants to scream. Oikawa _again._ “Yes,” he says at the exact same time Michimiya goes, “Nope!”

“Michimiya,” Koushi growls warningly.

“Really, Oikawa-san, we were just talking about _leaps of faith,_ ” she says, shouldering her bag and waving cheerfully. “But it was getting rather repetitive so I figure I’ll just go now! Have fun, you two! Make good choices and practice safe sex!”

Koushi cringes at the last line.

“Not that I was implying anything between the two of you, of course!” she continues, still waving cheerfully. “I meant in general! Unless you _want_ me to imply something- Ack! Sugawara!”

Koushi pushes her out of the classroom and slams the door. “Ignore her. I usually do.”

“You have... interesting friends.”

“Not for long,” Koushi promises menacingly beneath his breath. “Anyway, is there any reason why you’re still here?” 

“Oh, yes!” Oikawa pulls out the paper. “Just seeing as you worked this hard to ask me out – and how _cute_ is it that you’re just too shy to ask me in person, you know I won’t bite unless you want me to, Mr. Refreshing – and also because I incidentally happened to have some free time in my rather busy schedule-“

“I didn’t.”

“-so you should really count yourself lucky... Wait, what?”

“That’s someone else’s confession letter,” Koushi points out. “I was just the messenger. That’s not even my name at the bottom.”

“I... I...” Oikawa looks so dumbfounded, it’s almost funny. 

“You didn’t even read it, did you?”

Oikawa draws himself up to his full height. “So what!” he demands childishly. “Do you want to know how many confession letters I receive in a day? You think I have _time_ to read them all? I probably have more confession letters than there are minutes in a day, there’s so many of them.”

Koushi takes out his phone and multiplies. “There are 1,440 minutes in a day.”

“Yeah! More than that!” 

“More than 1,440 confession letters _everyday?”_

“I’m very popular!” Oikawa insists shrilly.

“Okay, Mr. Popular,” Koushi yields, bemused. “If you’re so used to confession letters, then why did you come after me?”

Then, something really baffling happens - Oikawa begins to blush. He tries to cover it up by his bluster and thrusting his chin so high up in the air, he’s practically looking at the ceiling, but Koushi saw it. Koushi sees it even now. “I was just feeling really generous today, okay. I was bored and I had time, like I said. You were just the lucky draw so don’t start thinking too highly of yourself,” he sniffs and then turns away, waving his arm dismissively. “Whatever. Carry on, then.”

And.

It’s weird, Koushi thinks, blinking owlishly. 

This is the first time Koushi’s ever seen Oikawa to be less than smooth and polished and perfect. And it’s weird because after spending days going crazy about his perfect hair, perfect face, perfect body, _now_ there’s a chink in his flawless armor that Koushi had never seen before and.

Somehow, it’s the most attractive thing about him that Koushi’s ever seen.

That he could be the hottest thing on earth since fire and still sputter like he has no idea what he’s doing, still feel insecure, still hide behind an air of superiority to cover up the fact that he took a leap of faith and just... fell.

But-

Koushi clenches his fists. “Wait.”

Oikawa waits.

-what if he wasn’t done falling yet?

“If that was my lame confession letter,” Koushi starts, heart thudding violently against his ribs. “And I was the one asking you out, even when I no longer have the luck of the draw, will you say yes?”

Oikawa whirls around to face him with eyes too large for his face.

“I mean, I think you and I both know you totally just fucked up in the most idiotic way possible. But somehow...” Koushi shrugs, taking one long look at the ground beyond his edge of the cliff and.

( _“Hey, watch where you’re-! Whoa, wow, you’re a mess.”_

 _“A mess? Really? Tell me something I_ don’t _know.”_

_“Not really something to be upset about, you know, you can find something worth admiring in even the worst of messes if you look hard enough.”_

“What?”

 _“I said, even if you’re a little messy, you’re still really pretty. And I didn’t even have to look all that hard to see_ that.”

_“Well, aren’t we just bursting with pickup lines, Mr. Refreshing, does that normally work out well for you?”_

_“That depends, is it working?”_

_“..._

_“...My name’s Oikawa.” And then this messy, pretty stranger who’d literally just stumbled his way into Koushi’s life surges forward to pull him into a breathtaking kiss._ )

Leaping. 

“Even then, I still think you’re really pretty, Mr. Messy.”

And slowly, blooming like a resilient spring flower, a smile begins to form on Oikawa’s face. 

“Took you long enough, Mr. Refreshing,” he chides, stepping into Koushi’s space and leaning forward until Koushi’s lips tingle with anticipation at the space between them, and the lack thereof. 

It’s almost a challenge when he says it, which is just fine by Koushi because this isn’t a game he’s planning to lose.

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- I didn’t actually put much research into art because I knew that if I started, I was gonna spend 237497675 hours down that rabbit hole so if I wrote something massively wrong, I am sorry.
> 
> \- I honestly intended for the last scene to be Semi instead of Yui (so I can insert some nice SemiShira in there because reasons) but then Yui kind of just... bulldozed her way into this fic so.
> 
> \- Also, in other news, Suga is the most coherent, philosophical drunk person in the universe apparently because life is just unfair.
> 
> \- A sneak peak into the rumandraisins special of The Glamorous Writing Life, True Story S2:
> 
> Me: -lifts to down dog from cobra-
> 
> Me: -examines self in mirror-
> 
> Me: Okay, brain. You may now proceed to describe this position you have imposed upon this body in not less than 240 characters.
> 
> Brain: ...........................................................bendy.
> 
> Me: I am bUT A MERE FOOL OTL
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
